the childhood of Jim Moriarty
by JaimeeHinton2011
Summary: Jim Moriarty's childhood, and why he hates Sherlock so much.
1. Chapter 1

James wasn't wanted as a child, he was put into a care home at the age of 6 months. He had never met his birth parents. In a way he thought it was what added to his madness. Let's go back a few years.

_**James Moriarty.  
Six years old.  
Adoption interviews today. **_

"James… I'm going to show you some people who would like to adopt you as their son." The care worker smiled down to the small, black haired, brown eyed boy. The boy was uninterested. He looked around the office, there was a desk and two chairs, Jim was sat down on the chair behind the desk, his feet didn't touch the floor, he played with the collar on his polo shirt. He leaned his head to the side. Two men walked in first. The caretaker was standing by the door, welcoming them. Then she leaded them to the two chairs, they sat down.

They were dressed well, both in suits. A wedding ring on both of them. A gay couple, a good start. Jim looked at them and raised his thick dark eyebrows at the care worker.

"My name is Edward and his is David." One man smiled. Jim looked blankly at the two men, the care worker taking over.

"This is James." She smiled, standing behind his chair and putting her hands on his shoulder. "He's six. He likes to play around in the garden, doesn't work too well with other children." She smiled. Jim looked up at her and scoffed.

"My name is Jim." He frowned, putting his small hands on the desk, pushing his chair back and standing up. "I don't like them." He glared at the two men, they sighed and stood up.

"We knew it was a chance, Miss. It's OK." They half smiled.

They walked out and there were over 20 couples Jim said no to. One caught his eye though, his 'last option' as his care worker described it.

The man had dark black hair, the woman had blonde hair. They looked completely different, she had a pink dress suit on and he was in t-shirt and jeans. He hardly made any effort. Jim liked this.

"Them, I want to go home with them."

Two weeks later, Jim was moved in with the couple. They had a dog, Jim had bonded with it over the week he had been there.

_**Jim Moriarty  
10 years old.  
Returning to care.**_

"What happened, Jim?" The old care worker asked. She already knew what happened, of course. But she wanted to hear it from the boy.

"They tried to bring the demons out." Jim answered, his voice was quiet. He had a bruise over his right eye, a burn on his hand.

The care worker sighed and bit down onto her pen. "And how did they try to do that?"

"Beat me up. Burn me." He whispered, looking up to her. He looked like he was going to cry, but only for a moment. The tears from his eyes went and he remained his blank stare.

"Ok, darling. Go to your bedroom." The care worker sighed. Jim went, sitting on his bed. He looked down to arm, it was all burnt. His stomach was scarred, he ran his fingers over the burn, leaning his head to one side.

_**James Moriarty  
11 years old  
Adoption to the Holmes' family.**_

"You're going to go to Susan and David Holmes." The care worker smiled. A woman and a man came in, they had a child behind them. About the same age as Jim. He had dark curly hair; he was wearing shorts and a polo shirt. He was dressed very much like Jim himself. A older boy was behind the whole family, he had sandy blonde hair, chunky. The women knelt down in front of Jim and smiled, resting her gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Hi, Jim. My name is Susan. You can call me mum whenever you want to. Or if you feel like I'm not your mother I understand." She smiled. "This is David. My husband." The man smiled and leant down to Jim's height, holding his hand out to shake it. Jim smiled and shook it.

"This is Sherlock." David put his arm around the dark haired boy and pulled him forwards. "He's the same age as you." Sherlock looked uninterested. He _was _uninterested. He hardly spent any time inside the family home anyway. He was always outside or in his bedroom- Then a thought hit him. What if he had to share his bedroom. "I'm not sharing my room with him!" Sherlock shouted, looking back to his mum with a frown. She laughed softly.

"He will have his own bedroom." She smiled, looking at Jim. "We can decorate it just how you want." She smiled.


	2. Chapter 2

A few weeks later James had settled in to Sherlock's home. He had started to trust them, they trused him. He had no choice but to return it.

One sunny afternoon, in the school holidays, James was playing in the big garden, he hadn't had a garden so big before. He had to share the one at the care centre, so he never went in there. But here, it had tons of grass to run around on. Even if Sherlock was out here he was somewhere up in the trees. James spent a lot of time watching Sherlock, he wished for them to be friends. But being socially awkward and not having any real friends in his life James had no idea to be friends with someone. He pictured it quite easy, he watched the other kids make friends. He watched his social worker make friends, he had grown up watching people make friends, so why couldn't he? No, he could. He was just nervous, that was all.

James stood up, walking over to the tree that Sherlock was playing in. He didn't know how Sherlock got up there, it was so high. James could hardly see him, it was only his bright orange shirt that made him stand out. Mrs. Holmes, as James' decided to call her for now, had made a habit of dressing them in the same things. So they were both mistaken for twins.

"Sherlock?" James shouted up the tree, Sherlock seemed to have heard him.

After a moment passed James shouted again.

"What?" Sherlock shouted back down, sounding somewhat annoyed.

"Can I play with you?" James shouted back up, placing his hands by his mouth to be louder.

Within a minute Sherlock had climbed down and jumped down in front of James, he glared at him.

"I am not _playing._" Sherlock scowled, pushing James back. "You can't just.. _. waltz _in here and try to be my friend!" He shouted, he stepped away from James after this. He wrinkled his nose in frustration.

"I don't have _friends._" He mumbled before he disappeared back up into a tree. James couldn't deny that he was hurt by that, he was only asking if he could play with Sherlock.

Sherlock didn't have any friends, but he didn't want any. James wished he could be like that, not need anyone, to not want anybody. He kicked the same stone as he made his way back into the house. He sat on the kitchen table and rested his head on his arms.

"What's the matter, James?" Mycroft asked. James had hardly spoken to Mycroft. He was older than him, spent most of his time in his room or out. He looked up to the chunkier boy and lifted his head, he put his eyes down on the table after a moment.

"Sherlock won't play with me." He whispered.

Mycroft laughed, taking the chair next to James, resting his hand on his shoulder.

"I wouldn't worry about that. He's been that why since he could talk." He smiled softly at James, he looked down to the bar of chocolate in his hand, and it was still unopened. "Here." Mycroft smiled, sliding it over to James. Who picked it up instantly and started to unwrap it. Mycroft looked up as his mother walked in, she smiled at the sight.

"Mycroft, giving away chocolate? It must be your lucky day, Jim." She smiled, walking into the kitchen area, bringing out some pans, getting started on dinner.

**James Moriarty  
13 years old.  
School therapist interview with parents. **

"They aren't even my real parents." James sighed as he leaned back in his chair, his head dangling off the back of it. He had been in therapy for a few weeks now, only because he set a desk on fire. It was an experiment… Well, not really. He was just bored. Everybody was just so _dull!_

Mrs. Holmes walked into the head masters office, biting her lip at James. He looked at her, he did seem to be sorry for what he done, well at least he was until Sherlock walked into the room.

"What is _he_ doing here?" James shouted, standing up to pounce at Sherlock.

"Sherlock, I told you to wait outside." His mother snapped, turning her head to look at him.

"I got bored."

"I've been in here 5 seconds!"

"7 actuall-"

"Get out, Sherlock. Phone Mycroft, tell him to pick you up."

Sherlock scoffed and walked out. James was still stood up, he only sat down when asked to by Susan.

"I don't understand. What's wrong?" Susan asked the teacher, she raised her eyebrow when she was told about the desk being set on fire.

"Yes, yes I know. He's from the _Holmes_ family! Mycroft set a child's shoe alight & Sherlock, well. You know all about Sherlock. Why is Jim any different?" She asked, holding tightly onto her purse.

"Well… Because he's not really a _Holmes…_" The teacher explained, slowly & quietly.

There was a pause, then a scraping of Susan's chair against the floor.

"How _dare_ you!" She shouted, slamming her hands down onto the desk. "He is _my_ son. How dare you say he is not a Holmes! He is a Holmes through and through." She scowled, she looked so much like Sherlock when she did this.

"Get your bag, Jim. We're leaving… Oh and.. I don't think he'll be attending this school anymore. Nor will Sherlock." She smiled back to the teacher.

Even though she knew that the school would be glad to be rid of the two boys, their test results were always amazing, 100% every time. This school's funding will go down with them gone, and without Mr. Holmes helping too.

Sherlock & Mycroft were outside, waiting in Mother's car. Susan got in and Mycroft moved out of the driver's seat.

"How did it go?" Mycroft asked, looking back to James.

"Not going there anymore." James shrugged. Mycroft raised his eyebrows, looking at his mother for confirmation.

"Yes. I'm moving Jim's & Sherlock's school." She nodded at the road, pursing her lips as she heard Sherlock start to complain.

"This is _your_ fault!" He shouted, taking his seat belt off and jumping on top of James, punching him repeatedly. James cried out from underneath Sherlock. The car stopped and Susan pulled Sherlock off James, slapping the back of head.

"What is wrong with you? You hate that school anyway!"

"Yes, mother. I've always hated it. But despite my pleas to move you have always said no, and he doesn't even _ask_ and we get moved? Just because you adopted him doesn't mean he gets to get what he wants! It also doesn't mean that I have to like him!" He shouted, pressing his lips together before he started walking home.

His mother sighed and let him, getting back into the car, Mycroft got into the back and checked James' bruises. "You're OK."

When they got home Sherlock was there, his cheek had mud on it and both were tear stained. He had ran home, fallen, got frustrated and cried.

His mother sighed and bent down, looking at him, rubbing his upper arm.

"I love all you boys all the same." She smiled, Sherlock managed a half one back, not accepting her hug though. He just let his arms stay limp at his side.


End file.
